


well fed

by glossolala



Category: Supernatural
Genre: And a Cas That Loves It, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Domestic Fluff, Fallen Castiel, M/M, Schmoop, chubby!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-05
Updated: 2013-04-05
Packaged: 2017-12-07 14:12:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/749421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glossolala/pseuds/glossolala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He, for whatever reason, is using Dean’s belly as his pillow and Dean, the little shit, had woken up and was actually laughing at him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	well fed

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of just dumb, gross fluff. Featuring BellyPudge!Dean, food, snuggling and pissy/snarky/bitchy DeanCas (♥!) because these are a few of my favourite things.
> 
> Initially posted on tumblr, now posted here with minor edits. Thank you for reading~ Feedback and constructive criticism is always welcome.

When Cas lies next to Dean in bed, he tends to stay awake for a little longer than Dean does, and he watches him, until he eventually drifts off.  
  
So, one night he notices that Dean, as he sleeps on his back, snoring, has this weird little habit of nudging his shirt up his stomach and scratching it then letting his hand rest palm down on his belly. Cas raises an eyebrow and giggles the first time it happens, thinking of the gesture as yet another endearing tic he gets to learn about Dean by living with him in such close proximity.  
  
He vaguely recalls how Dean’s belly felt under his lips as he kissed down his naked torso earlier that night and decides he wants to feel that warm softness and the give of his flesh again.  
  
He carefully shuffles over, making sure not to rouse his sleeping companion, and lifts Dean’s hand slowly from his stomach, pausing for a beat to glance up at his face, to make sure again that he didn’t disturb him. He then rests his cheek gingerly on his belly, his face turned towards Dean’s, his body curled up but angled nearly perpendicular to his friend’s body.  
  
After a few seconds, Cas finds himself nuzzling his face gently into the warm, fleshy pillow belonging to one idiotic hunter who had weird sleeping habits that, in turn, subconsciously urged his idiotic angel to develop weird sleeping habits, too.  
  
Cas has no idea why he’s doing this, but it feels right somehow and he gets a strange little feeling of warmth blossoming in his chest as it hits him how intimate this is, but in a different way than he’s used to. He soon drifts off faster than he has in a long time, the warmth under his face and the gentle rise and fall of Dean’s belly as he breathes in out, in out lulling him to sleep.  
  
—  
  
The dim morning light peeking through the blinds from the bedroom’s small window and illuminating stripes along the bedspread and across their bodies isn’t what wakes Cas up. There’s a deep vibrating next to his ear and a little up and down movement that jerks his head a little, which makes him grumble and burrow his face deeper into his pillow.  
  
Cas is not a morning person at all, and even less so when he’s this comfortable. He inhales and catches the scent of a body he’s very familiar with by now, extremely close to him, but why...? And then it hits him.  
  
He, for whatever reason, is using Dean’s belly as his pillow and Dean, the little shit, had woken up and was actually laughing at him. He shoots up from where he lay and blearily looks over at Dean, who on the other hand is wide awake, propped up on his elbows with the biggest shit-eating grin he’d ever seen on his face.  
  
“So..uh, did ya sleep well, Cas?” Dean’s trying so hard not to laugh that he has to talk around his teeth.  
  
“Shut the hell up, Dean. It’s not my fault you’re a fatass with a belly so big that it’s more comfortable than my regular pillow.” Even as he says this he feels himself flushing red all the way up to his ears and all the way down to his chest. He turns away and gets up quickly, indignant, and pushes his way to the bathroom. Cas shuts the door behind him loudly to get his point across, smirking a little and getting a little mean flash of satisfaction at cutting Dean off as he says, “Aww.. come on Cas, don’t be like that.. I was just teasing!” knowing how Dean must look: slightly crestfallen but still a little too amused for his liking, all the same.  
  
—  
  
He emerges from the bathroom half an hour later, taking his time in the shower as a subtle “go away I’m gonna be a while so don’t bother waiting” and sure enough, the bed is empty and the room has been vacated. He towels his hair dry quickly and gets dressed, sweats and a random, worn cotton shirt and goes barefoot down the stairs, careful to sound as nonchalant as possible.  
  
Cas rolls his eyes at himself; _How does one even step down stairs nonchalantly? Look at you, playing games like a child. Castiel, you’re a total fool for that adorable loud mouth who can’t say anything nice to you or anyone else to save his life but still says all the right things anyway. Not that he has to try very hard with you, really._ He shakes his head and finishes his internal rambling monologue by the time he gets to the bottom of the stairs.  
  
Cas veers off to the left, and pads into the kitchen where he can smell freshly brewed coffee, making sure to keep his face straight and to not make eye contact with Dean, who is following him with his eyes as he walks across the kitchen, to keep the little charade going. He doesn’t check but he’s sure Dean hasn’t made anything to eat, the lazy bum, so he quickly gets to whipping up a bacon omelette with french toast on the side, because he’s feeling nice. He senses Dean walking up behind him, making a small sound of joy in his throat (and Cas quickly thinks, _dumbass_ _)_ and sees his hand sneaking towards the plate of finished french toast so he quickly slaps it away and growls at Dean to get back to the table. Dean grumbles under his breath and Cas can hear the exasperation in the way Dean shuffles his sock-covered feet on the way back to the table and he smiles discreetly to himself; a small victory.  
  
As he finishes up and piles the food on two plates, a little more for Dean because he’s always had the larger appetite, he turns around, and is faced with the tall front page of some yellowed, old-looking newspaper Dean must have found in the bunker’s library, which makes it very outdated, which makes this a cute attempt at looking casual. Silly. He sets the plates down and turns to get himself a mug of coffee; black, as usual, and he hears the shuffling of paper as he turns back around to face Dean.  
  
Dean is sitting there in his grey robe and is, for lack of a better term, pouting like a child and eyeing his food suspiciously. Cas watches him from the top of his mug, trying his best to hide his amused smirk. He looks up at Cas and says, petulant, “I thought you said I was a fatass?” And Cas just passively stares back at him, revealing the small smile playing on his lips. Dean takes another couple seconds to frown at him before he gets it, and his face relaxes in surprise and his pout turns to an incredulous, one-sided smile: “You weirdo! You’re fattening me up aren’t you!? So you can sleep on me some more? What is this.. a fetish? Wait, no.. Hansel and Gretel?! And you’re the witch in the gingerbread house.. I should’ve known.” he says with mock outrage in his voice, but his pretty green eyes crinkle at the corners, a full smile on his face by now, one that mirrors Cas’s own.  
  
Cas sets his mug down, props himself up on his arms and leans across the narrow countertop, his lips catching Dean’s own and he kisses him, full and deep but fleeting, making sure he doesn’t get enough so that he comes looking for the rest later.  
  
When they break away a few moments later, he says to him, as he smiles against his mouth, “Be quiet and eat your breakfast, Dean.” Dean laughs.  
  
And with that, Cas sits back and watches Dean eat enthusiastically, the sound of Dean’s laughter ringing pleasantly in his ears, while he thinks to himself: _Shit. I love this idiot. I really, really do._


End file.
